Just a game
by potnoodle
Summary: Oneshot, set just after the Dark Tournament. Kurama is still a bit disturbed, so he talks to Yuusuke. Vaguely shounen ai. Edited for consistency.


Disclaimer: All characters in this story are property of Yoshihiro Togashi. Just borrowing.

Just a Game

Kurama had always liked the atmosphere at the hairdressers. The normality of it all - the sweet, cloying powder smell of old ladies, chatty girls with bright streaks in their hair, leafing through the styling magazines – relaxed him in the same way that shoplifting did for Hiei.

He had been a regular at this place ever since his first haircut and never switched to a barber's (not trusting them with long hair) so the girls here had long since stopped trying to pry out of him which hair dye he used.

That day it was a woman in her mid-twenties, with bleached hair and tanned skin, who sat him down and arranged the overalls around his shoulders. They found a common interest in art-house films and gossiped for fifteen minutes or so, filling in the time while she curled and trimmed. Until she noticed the marks left over from the tournament.

"Shuuichi, you've got an awful lotta scratches this month. Have you been in a fight?"

"I'm afraid so." She had sounded curious, but it wasn't something Kurama wanted to explain, or even think about. Not in this place.

"You should take better care of yourself, kid – your hair's looking quite damaged."

'…_Looking quite damaged,' _the memory taunted, the voice that came into Kurama's head hand in hand with fear, pain, white hands that closed around his neck and the sickening reminder of his own weaknesses.

Kurama looked in the mirror, met his own eyes, wide and fearful, watched himself shaking. Dimly he could hear voices.

"…so rude, Trace. No wonder we're always losing customers … too blunt…"

"Aww, he doesn't mind a bit of honesty – right, Shuuichi? Shuuichi?"

But the loudest voice, though only a whisper, was the one inside his head:

"…Humans are such frail creatures…"

"Shuuichi? Mr. Minamino? I'm sorry, really, that was out of order. Please say something."

"That's quite all right – I'm not offended." With an effort, he brought himself back to the present. Tracy had paused, her carefully manicured hands clutching the scissors uncertainly next to his ear.

They're not his hands, look at them Kurama, look! Dammit, would Karasu really wear sparkly pink nail varnish? You killed him, remember? He's not about to turn up at the hairdressers.

Out of the salon the air was heavy, stifling. So Kurama strolled through the cold section of the supermarket, letting the breezes that drifted off frozen pizza lift away the memory of that feeling. He forced himself to walk normally, fixed his customary faint smile firmly on his face. It wasn't hard – a few hundred years had been more than long enough to learn self-control. That slip while he was having a haircut was the first he'd made in years.

_It was only another fight, over soon enough. It's all in my mind,_ Kurama told himself sternly. _The only parts of Karasu left now are those bits in my head and I am **not** going to let them mess me up._

He filled his basket slowly: milk, bread, cereal, seeds and more hair products, because the girl was right after all. At the exit he caught himself peering closer at that guy all in black on the corner – just another harmless Goth kid, of course.

On the way home, Kurama passed some girls from his school out shopping. They were giggling over some magazine, a new idol no doubt, and didn't see him. He continued walking, feeling oddly disappointed. Ridiculous; he would only have brushed them away with a kind word and a smile. But there was a nagging voice of doubt in his head:

Maybe they did notice you. But perhaps they sensed it, the darkness inside you, the cloudiness Karasu left behind. Just knowing there was someone smarter than you, stronger than you. But it wasn't that which scared you, was it? Someone trying to get close, who dodged every time you turned to push them away.

"Hey, what's up?" A green outfit, ridiculous amounts of hair gel and brown eyes that had hardened considerably in the past few months – who else could it be?

"Not much, Yuusuke. You?"

"Well, gotta date with Keiko this evening so I'm just kinda hanging around 'til then."

"I see." Kurama hesitated. "Actually, I was hoping I could talk to you for a while about something."

"Sure – how 'bout the park. They got seats. Well, swings."

"Let's go."

It was years since either of them had been on the swing seats. Still the same old rubber and chains, though considerably rustier and the blue paint had chipped.

"Keiko and me used to go here every day," volunteered Yuusuke after the silence became uncomfortable. "She'd always yell at me for hogging this swing – it was the comfy one, y'see."

"Hmm." Kurama had felt himself superior to the other children when he was younger, preferring to wait until after they'd left before venturing into the park.

"So what did you want to tell me?"

"To be honest, I'm not exactly sure myself."

"O…k then."

"My apologies, Yuusuke. If you have other things to occupy your time…"

"Nah, nothin' better to do."

Yuusuke leaned back; arms folded around the swing chains to stop himself falling, and stuck his legs out straight. The sky was beginning to have that pale twilight look and colours drained from everything, too slowly to watch but it was happening nonetheless. Of course, Yuusuke didn't actually notice any of this, as he was still trying to see how far backwards he could lean before he overbalanced.

"But you always let her have a turn in the end, didn't you?" Kurama's voice cut through the silence as he glanced sideways at Yuusuke through his fringe. Yuusuke jumped slightly.

"What?"

"On your swing."

"Oh … right, yeah. Either that or get beaten to a pulp." Yuusuke smiled, slightly embarrassed.

More creaking from the swings and a rustling as Kurama trailed his shoes along the tarmac. Forwards… and backwards… and forwards ... and-

"So, how's your, uh, mum."

"She's now in excellent health, thank you."

"Great." It came out flat and dull.

"Is it difficult for you, Yuusuke? This double life, all these secrets."

Woah, where the hell did that come from? Kurama's in an unusual mood today, thought Yuusuke, though he also wondered what kind of behaviour could be counted as unusual under the circumstances. 

Yuusuke sat up again with a clunk and leaned over, trying to catch a glimpse of Kurama's expression under all that hair. And failing.

"Not really," he replied. "I mean, Mum's usually out partying and Keiko and Kuwabara already know, so it's not like I have to explain it to anyone."

"No, the other part of it. You know, trying to keep them separate, being able to walk around the human world without looking over your shoulder every few minutes to check for monsters."

"Oh. Well, unless demons start to watch my house and stuff again –" he shot another look at Kurama to see if he remembered their first meeting too, but his face was still in shadow " – I don't think about it much. Just do what I always did before any of this started: skipping classes, daytime TV, video games. Sorta boring but in a good way."

"... "

There was something Yuusuke caught in that pause that made him ask,

"What about you? It's different for you, isn't it?"

"Sometimes. My life here didn't exactly begin normally, but I still have my own routines to fill the spaces with when I'm in this world, and tend to think less about what occurs in the Spirit one. But occasionally I need … distracting."

"Huh? Cos you're too in-te-llec-tual for daytime TV, you mean?" spelling the word out sardonically.

"No. Not that kind of distraction."

"Whaddya mean then?" Frustrated, Yuusuke peered around the swing again. "Dammit, I can't tell what you're thinking when I can't see your face!"

_You wouldn't want to know what I was thinking_ … but Kurama raised his head slightly anyway. The paling light glanced off his face, heightening the shadows and making his green eyes glow eerily. To Yuusuke, the demon suddenly looked terribly lost ... and … what was that word? Oh yeah, vulnerable.

That doesn't make sense. Kurama never loses his cool. So what's with the face then? There's gotta be something I can do to cheer this guy up but hell, how do you make a thousand year-old spirit laugh? He must've heard all the 'knock knock's and blonde jokes in the world by now.

On impulse, Yuusuke reached his hand out and tipped up Kurama's chin so their eyes met. The demon stared back at him curiously. He leant closer and hissed,

"Hey, you. Smile, for god's sake. Not the end of the world yet."

And Kurama did, his mouth curving lazily upwards into an arc and eyes closing slightly, half covering them with long, dark lashes. Wisps of hair fell across his face and Yuusuke's hand reached up to brush them away, then without thinking, he carried on tracing his fingers across the cheek, mesmerised by those clouded eyes.

_Shit, why does he have to be so pretty?_

"Careful, Yuusuke," warned Kurama softly, sounding amused. "If your face gets any closer, we'll end up kissing."

And a large part of Yuusuke's mind that was already fogged up with the pink fluffy clouds and faint stirrings of desire thought, "Hmm, OK then."

Uh, wait a minute, this is **Kurama.** Your friend, your teammate, that guy who's always around to help out – aren't you mixing things up a bit? Shouldn't you be doing this stuff with that other person, you know, the one whose name **also** begins with K?

"Oh crap! Keik-mmf!" A delicate hand, smelling faintly of roses had clamped down over Yuusuke's mouth.

"Ssh," Kurama murmured. "She's not here. It's just us. Now, look at me, Yuusuke." Yuusuke did, and for a few long moments he was trapped in that gaze again … but _she_ was in his head now too, with her plain brown bob and earnest eyes that could stare so accusingly. Keiko was imperfect, sure, but not some impossibly beautiful, ethereal monster that would slip away through his fingers after this was over. She was solid and human and didn't practice aggressive horticulture on people who pissed her off.

Seeing the change come over Yuusuke and the resolve kick in, Kurama resigned himself. Watched Yuusuke's other hand curving down in a clumsy punch, easy enough to stop. If he had wanted to, that is.

He hit the tarmac and rolled over onto his back. Yuusuke was standing over him, looking at his own bruised knuckles ruefully.

"Ow. You could've blocked that, you know."

"I know. But I deserved it."

"Yeah, seriously, what the fuck were you playing at?"

Playing. Just a game. That was what Karasu had called it … Kurama smiled bitterly and Yuusuke's scowl deepened, misunderstanding it. 

"And don't try that, 'oh-I'm-so-sad-but-I'm-trying-so-terribly-hard-to-hide-it-with-this-brave-little-smile' look on me either." Yuusuke stopped to catch his breath, frowning. "Cos it won't cut it this time."

The smile disappeared.

"Yuusuke, I'm sorry. I was just trying to use you."

"Duh, I'm not stupid. But it was me who started…"

"I made you do that. We're good at manipulating things, we demons, and I have what you could call a certain amount of charisma at my disposal."

"Er … me very dumb?"

Kurama hated speaking bluntly. He felt it took the edge of his enigmatic personality.

"I acted nice to make you do what I wanted."

"But why did you want to make me do that?"

Why? How the hell do I put something I'm not sure I even want to admit to myself into words he'll comprehend?

Yuusuke was still standing there looking pissed off. "I'm waiting, fox boy."

OK, here goes. Keep it simple.

"Let's just say that the last person who touched me like that was an obsessive psychopath with relationship issues and _really cold hands_, and I needed someone to help me wipe away that memory."

Understanding dawned.

"Ohhh … Karasu. Wait, he _touched_ you? Ewwww!"

"Exactly."

"Dude, sorry. Didn't realise it was about that." Yuusuke offered a hand, and Kurama pulled himself up gratefully, brushing the dirt off his clothes and face.

"Friends?" But the spirit detective was still frowning at something.

"Wait a sec. So what, was I the easiest target for you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You needed someone, so you picked me. You think I'm the one most likely to fall for your little tricks, is that it?"

"Wait … Yuusuke …"

But it was true – Hiei would have seen straight through it in a second, and Kuwabara was so in love with Yukina that he wouldn't even think about looking at someone else that way. Yuusuke … Kurama had misjudged him again, thinking it was mainly one-sided. After all, it was always Keiko following him around and dragging him back to school.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I have a date to get to."

With a quick, awkward smile, Yuusuke slid off down the hill to the main road and Kurama watched him leave. Then he reached up a hand to his own cheek, where a bit of warmth still lingered, and smiled faintly.

Thank you, Yuusuke. Like it or not, you really did help.


End file.
